


Buttons are Difficult

by Demerite



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Humour, M/M, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:12:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras' waistcoat has far too many buttons, Grantaire thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buttons are Difficult

**Author's Note:**

> Mish and I were at the Les Miserables "From Page to Stage" exhibition in the city yesterday and near the end of the exhibition there were some costumes that you could try on and take pictures in and such. I discovered a red waistcoat and instantly I was Enjolras (obviously). While I was buttoning said waistcoat, I noted the large amount of buttons, and remarked to Mish that Grantaire probably hated having to undo so many of them. This prompted mass hilarity and promises of fic. 
> 
> This is that fic. Enjoy.

Snow had been falling all afternoon, and by the time Enjolras and Grantaire leave the Cafe Musain, it is icily cold outside. Enjolras shivers and shoves his hands deep into his pockets. Grantaire, whose coat does not have pockets, casts a bitter eye towards the sky and then just shrugs, determined to ignore the cold. He has slept in colder gutters, when he could not find his way home. 

On the thought of home, Grantaire notes that Enjolras has made no move to dismiss him from his side as he walks towards his lodgings. Grantaire knows that this means Enjolras expects him to follow him, and Grantaire should be bitter about the fact that he is only allowed to be with Enjolras when it suits the other man, but this feeling is eclipsed by his selfish joy at getting to be with the man he loves at all. 

They have reached Enjolras’ lodgings, and, having not yet been dismissed, Grantaire follows Enjolras inside, making sure to stamp the snow from his boots first. He is, after all, a courteous guest, when it suits him to be. 

Enjolras turns to Grantaire, and before he knows it, Grantaire is being kissed within an inch of his life. Not that he’s complaining, and he returns the kiss with equal fervour, tangling one hand in Enjolras’ blond curls, which are escaping from the braid that Jehan had put there during the later part of their meeting. 

Enjolras’ fingers are quick at unbuttoning Grantaire’s waistcoat, and soon he is tugging agitatedly at Grantaire’s shirt. Grantaire knows he should get rid of the shirt before Enjolras actually rips it; that had happened once, although Enjolras maintains that it was Grantaire’s fault for not taking off the shirt in question in a timely manner. 

Grantaire obliges by sliding the shirt and waistcoat off, letting them drop into an ungraceful pile on the floor. He goes back to kissing Enjolras, this time reaching for the buttons down the front of his red waistcoat, meaning to open it and the shirt beneath. 

However, he encounters a slight problem when he realises that his fingers, clumsy with cold, cannot keep a hold of the gold buttons; they keep slipping out of his grasp. In the time it would normally take him to undo all the buttons, he has three of them unfastened, and is struggling with the fourth. Enjolras’ waistcoat has far too many buttons, Grantaire thinks, irritated. 

“Grantaire?” Enjolras asks, breaking off the kiss to give him a confused look. 

Grantaire shrugs, making a helpless gesture towards Enjolras’ buttons, indicating that they are the cause of his problems. “Buttons.” He supplies simply, knowing that he sounds slightly helpless and not caring. 

Enjolras makes a frustrated sound in his throat, and takes Grantaire’s hands in his, rubbing the fingers gently to warm them. It seems to Grantaire a lot of effort to go to just to take off a waistcoat. As far as Grantaire is concerned, things would go a lot faster if Enjolras just left the garment on anyway. Things could progress just as easily if they only removed the important coverings. 

He voices this thought to Enjolras, who gives him a scandalised look, and starts in on one of his rants. Apparently, this is his good waistcoat, the one that he wears to all the meets because it’s red, and that’s the colour of the revolution. He does not want it ruined, is the point. Grantaire is a little hurt that Enjolras think he is likely to ‘ruin’ the garment. The only one Grantaire is interested in ruining is Enjolras. 

It’s somewhere around this point that Grantaire decides he’s tired of listening to Enjolras’ ranting, so he grabs the blond and kisses him hard, tugging him across the room towards the bed. He doesn’t stop kissing Enjolras until they tumble down onto the mattress in a confusion of arms and legs. 

He keeps kissing Enjolras, holding him close and touching every bit of his that he can reach until his hands are warm enough to unfasten the buttons, and leave the waistcoat pooled on the floor, red as blood in the candlelight.


End file.
